Together On Their Own
by MusicalRaccoon
Summary: Ep and R run into each other at the Musain, begin talking, and realize they're more alike than either of them ever suspected.


Enjolras looked up from the table where he had been finalizing plans for the revolution for the past hour, ever since the meeting had ended. He had been scratching the paper furiously; making sure everything was perfect, when a loud snore jostled him out of his thoughts. He looked to the far corner of the room, and saw Grantaire hunched over a small table in the corner, passed out and surrounded in empty liquor bottles. He sighed and loudly scraped his chair backward, striding over to Grantaire with purpose. Upon reaching him he roughly shook his shoulder.

"R," he said, loudly but not too harshly. When Grantaire didn't respond, he repeated his name louder, "R!" he cried. This finally awoke the drunk. Enjolras rolled his eyes and glared as Grantaire slowly came to.

"Where 'm I?" Grantaire mumbled, still in an alcohol induced stupor and half asleep.

"You're still in the Café. The meeting ended an hour ago, Grantaire. I need to work. Get out." Enjolras said all of this firmly, not letting himself have mercy for Grantaire while he was drunk, and walked back to his table.

A few minutes after Enjolras had begun writing again, he looked up to see that Grantaire had gone back to sleep. He groaned in frustration, picked up his papers and left the café. He didn't need to deal with the drunkard right now, he needed to concentrate. The revolution was fast approaching, he didn't need distractions, and Grantaire and his awful habits were very much distractions.

Upon hearing the door slam, Grantaire awoke again. He looked around the room and saw that Enjolras had left. "Apollo?" he called sadly into the empty room, knowing he wouldn't get a reply. He reached for an unopened bottle of wine and was about to start drinking again when he heard a voice. Not Enjolras', unfortunately, but another rough but nice voice. Éponine walked out of the shadows of the café and stared at him, a strange look on her face. He recognized her as the girl who was always around Pontmercy, but he had never taken much notice of her otherwise.

"M'sieur?" She called quietly in her rough voice.

"What is it 'Ponine?" he asked, still slurring his words.

Éponine stepped further into the light, allowing him to fully see her now. She wore her usual tattered dress, and her dark hair seemed slightly more tangled than usual. Her skin was scarred and her eyes were dark and dull, but they now held a curious and slightly amused look.

When she didn't answer his question, Grantaire asked, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Éponine considered his question for a moment, wondering whether to tell him the truth or not. She decided she may as well, and replied, "I sleep here, occasionally. Whenever my father is being particularly…angry." It was enough for him to understand what she meant, he knew of her father. It made sense she could get by with sleeping in the café, she was so skinny and small that it was easy to see how she had slipped by without Enjolras taking notice.

Grantaire grunted in response, and assumed she would be leaving then. He started drinking his wine again, when he heard Éponine say, "I see the way you look at him, M'sieur." Grantaire nearly choked on his drink, and looked up at her in shock.

"Pardon me?" He asked, trying not to blush.

"Enjolras. I've seen you stare at him during meetings. You practically hang on to his every word. And I know why you drink so much. Helps dampen the pain, doesn't it? I understand."

Grantaire was flabbergasted momentarily and took another swig of his drink. Éponine stood there, in front of him, waiting for a reply. He finally obliged and said, "Mademoiselle, I assure you I have no idea what you're speaking of and I'd prefer you stopped speaking of it, now."

Éponine barked out a laugh, almost as if scoffing at him, and said, "Oh, good m'sieur, you think you can fool me? Believe me, I know what I'm speaking of. You all know I'm…infatuated, with Marius Pontmercy. I can see the way you all look at me as I look at him. He's the only one too blind to see it."

Knowing he could not deny this, Grantaire nodded slowly. "Yes, I have noticed you seem fond of him. But what does any of this have to do with Enjolras?"

Taking a seat next to Grantaire and his liquor bottles, Éponine smiled at him kindly. "You love him, m'sieur. You don't have to deny it to me. S'not like I've got anyone I'll run around tellin'. And I do understand it, sir. You look at Enjolras the way I look at Marius, and then he scoffs at you and you drink yourself away from the pain and longing." Grantaire was pretending to ignore her now, but he was hanging on to her every word, and she knew it. She continued, "It only makes him dislike you more, you know? The drinking? He just wants you to focus on his revolution. It's the only thing he has eyes for."

Éponine was trying to be helpful, Grantaire knew this, but he couldn't take hearing the words he had berated himself with every day for God knows how long coming from someone else's mouth, confirming his sorrowful thoughts. "Enough!" Grantaire stood, slamming his bottle down on the table. "I know all of this. And besides, it's a bit hypocritical coming from the girl who follows Pontmercy around like a lost puppy dog, hoping he doesn't notice her spying."

"Ah, monsieur." Éponine said, smiling mischievously. You try to hurt me with your words to defend yourself, which may work if it weren't for that I have already been hurt far worse than your words could ever do to me."

Grantaire studied her, and then sat back down, slowly, returning to his drinking. He didn't look at her or say anything; he let the silence between them account for an apology for his outburst. He was too tired and drunk for any more emotional exhaustion. Éponine sat with him a moment longer, then, realizing the poor man would be passed out again in minutes, stood to leave.

As she reached the stairs, she turned back to Grantaire. Upon seeing he was still conscious, she said, "If it helps, m'sieur…I do believe, if his eyes weren't so fixated on France, they would only be on you."

"And the fact that Pontmercy doesn't see what's in front of his eyes is his loss, mademoiselle." They shared a smile, and then Éponine nodded and began to continue her descent down the stairs, when Grantaire called after her. "Wait, Éponine!"

She faced him. He held up his wine bottle, "Drink with me?" he asked with a toothy grin.

Her face broke into a smile, "I'd be honored, Monsieur." She once again took her seat next to him, and accepted the bottle he passed to her.

"You know," Grantaire said, "You're not bad for a street girl."

Éponine gulped down a good bit of the wine, then passing the bottle back to Grantaire replied, "And you aren't so bad for a drunkard."

"Perhaps we should drink together more often. It's only sensible, we're both apparently always camped out here after hours."

Éponine nodded in response, clearly deep in thought. Grantaire let his own mind wander, not wanting to intrude on her. They stayed like this for a while, passing the bottle back and forth between them and staring into space, each pondering their unrequited loves for these revolutionary boys.

"So, he's why you even come to these meetings, right? Why you care about the revolution?" Éponine asked, breaking the friendly silence.

Grantaire sighed, "You could say that. I'm for the cause, of course, but I can't say if I would be hanging about here or not if he hadn't caught my attention. I'd like to think I would."

Again, Éponine just nodded in response. They fell back into their silence for a while before Grantaire asked, "Are you joining the fight, too?"

Glancing at him warily before deciding she could trust him, Éponine replied, "Yes. I have to be there, to protect him. To be with him if he dies. To die for him, if I must."

"Same goes for me, madam. If he must die for freedom, I must die for him."

This sent them both back deep into thought, and they were becoming drunker with each minute that passed. Eventually, they both passed out on the table, two friends sharing the pain of unrequited love, and the release of the pain from alcohol. They also shared the unspoken truth of the fact that soon, they would be released from the pain altogether. The others were respectably naïve, but Éponine and Grantaire were cynical and realistic, and knew they would all be dying soon. They would all be dying for something, though. Most would die for freedom, but Éponine and Grantaire would die for love. Now, at least, they each had a friend who would be dying with them.


End file.
